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My dearest Lorenzo.
I know you hate surprises, my darling. This is the last one from me, I promise. If Max has given you this letter, it must be time. Asking you not to be mad at him for keeping it from you is like asking the sun not to set, but please know that I chose him because he loves you like a brother, yet he’s strong enough to see you in pain and still do what’s best for you. Don’t spend too long punishing him for only doing what I asked. I trust him to know when the time is right. He won’t let either of us down.
So, you’ve met someone, right? I hope she is everything you need and want. I hope she makes you smile again, my dearest love. If I know anything though, it’s that you’ll be fighting your feelings, pushing her away and letting guilt consume you for loving her after you promised to only love me.
My Lorenzo, my darling. My everything. Our love was timeless. Perfect. It will never be replicated or repeated.
That doesn’t mean you can’t find a whole new kind of love. She might be exactly like me or nothing like me—all that matters is that she makes you happy.
My greatest regret in leaving you comes from my fear that you will spend the rest of your life in darkness. Please don’t, my darling. It would break my heart a million times to think of you never again experiencing all the joy that life has to offer. Your love for another does not diminish your love for me, and you honor my memory by allowing your heart to beat for another.
I wish that I could write more, but you know how easily my hands tire now. Besides, you are a man of few words.
So I’ll leave you with this—grief is the price we pay for love. Would you trade any of your pain if it meant we lost even a second of our time together? I know you well enough to know your answer. You would endure a thousand years of torment for one more kiss, one more dance, one more anything. Do not let fear of loss stop you from living, Lorenzo. And know, that no matter what you do, I will always be proud of you.
So go live enough for both of us, content with the knowledge that the piece of your heart you gave me is safe in my hands for eternity.
Until we meet again, my dearest love,
Anya x
ChapterThirty-Two
MIA
FOUR WEEKS LATER
Ihave my back to the door when it opens. I smile, ready to turn and meet my newest client.
“Hey, sunshine.” Oh dear god. That voice. The deep throaty growl I know so well. My legs tremble. My knees almost buckle
Spinning around, I gape at him and drink him in. And dammit, he looks so good. His beard has been neatly trimmed, his thick hair combed to the side. He’s wearing dark gray suit pants and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. Those forearms—my kryptonite. A dull ache builds between my legs, and I clench my thighs together. I haven’t had enough time away from him to stop responding to his presence. I wonder if it’s even possible for enough time to pass for me to forget the pleasure this man’s body can wring from my own.
He laughs nervously. “Surprised to see me?”
I finally find my voice. And my backbone. Damn right I’m surprised to see him. I’ve worked hard to start a new life here in Iowa. I love my job at The Relaxation Rooms and if he thinks he can just walk in here… “What the hell are you doing here, Lorenzo?”
He rocks his head from shoulder to shoulder. “I have that twinge in my neck again.”
I fold my arms over my chest and fix him with my fiercest glare. “There are plenty of good masseurs in Chicago.”
He starts unbuttoning his shirt. What the hell is he doing? “I drove five hours to have you give me a massage though. So hadn’t we better get started? You charge by the hour, right?”
Charge by the hour. Jackass!
“Yes, and you got fifty-eight minutes left.”
A smirk plays across his lips, and he shrugs off his shirt before placing it on the chair in the corner. “Pants as well?” he asks with a cock of one eyebrow.
I sigh. “Just your shirt is fine.” He’s actually going through with this?
“Where do you want me, sunshine?”
Back in Chicago? Or with your head between my thighs? I can’t decide.I go with neither of those responses though. “On the bed. Face down, please.”
He mumbles something unintelligible and lies on the bed, arms above his head and his face in the small hole in the bench. Without him watching me, I take a moment to check out his body while I rub massage oil into my hands. His powerful back is covered with eye-catching tattoos. Every muscle taut and toned and begging me to touch. And then there’s that ass. I could sink my teeth into it, even when I’m pissed at him for intruding into my new life, especially when I’ve done my best to move on and get over him. Right now all I can think about is how I’d much rather be gettingunderhim.
Stop it, Mia.He’s a client. Nothing more.You can do this.
